Chapter 115: North and South (3)

A boundless, gentle light rose from the Spirit Staff, tickling Allan’s cheek.

It felt as though it were commending Allan for his labor in passing immediate judgment upon the heretics.

“Allan—”

Allan shuddered.

A satisfaction swept through his entire body, unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

It was a pleasure that surpassed even the day he discovered he possessed a unique mana attribute.

Allan’s eyes brimmed with rapture, a faint hint of madness flickering within.

‘If I find and burn every last heretic at the stake… will Hor be pleased with me?’

‘If I burn all those blasphemers who dare not believe in you, will you rejoice?’

As he was thinking so, the light swirling around the staff swelled greatly.

The compassion from earlier faded away, leaving only a solemn, divine presence.

『 I bestow upon you yet another mission. 』

『 You must show the proper path to those who serve the wrong. 』

『 And to the wicked who have committed the utmost evil, you must show them my wrath. 』

Allan could not answer.

He could only lower his body even further, giving all the reverence he could.

『 Saint of the South, 』

『 My Judge of Heresy, 』

『 From the Origin of All Plagues, the heretic among heretics is being born. 』

『 If you do not stop it, the whole world will be engulfed in heresy and plague. 』

『 You must fulfill your true duty alongside the Saint of the North. 』

With those words, the divine presence vanished.

Yet a lingering aura of that auspicious light remained in the Spirit Staff where it had stayed.

“Judge of Heresy…”

Allan grasped his staff and recited the oracle again and again.

As if in a trance, as if intoxicated with ecstasy.

“My true duty, my mission… is to judge heresy.”

He burned with fervor.

The heretic among heretics was being born.

In the world under Hor’s watchful gaze, how dare it.

“Not even a scrap will remain—I’ll burn them all at the stake.”

***

“Phew…”

I suppressed the thunderous echoes of the revelation.

Meanwhile, the deranged Saint’s monologue echoed repeatedly.

He said he would wipe the world clean, to a blank slate.

What nonsense. Truly, it was laughable.

“Well. That’s why he ended up destroying Bartenberg, after all.”

What he desired was not so different from what I wanted.

World peace.

The only difference was whether that peace would be bathed in blood or achieved through harmony.

Though I knew this, I made him a Saint.

And now, I’d even given him the mantle of Judge of Heresy.

“It would be better just to leash him.”

Judge of Heresy.

The qualification I granted him is only to punish heresy, nothing beyond that.

To put a stop to his ridiculous ambition of erasing every seed of discord from the world would be enough for now.

Of course, he probably doesn’t realize it himself yet.

“I’ll deliver the details through Mar…”

I forcibly pushed Allan from my mind and changed the subject.

The ‘heretic among heretics’ I’d mentioned to Allan.

The image of the Red Plague Giant floated up in my mind.

Kalgos, who revealed his form during the Undead War.

“That bastard called me ‘Father’…”

He had certainly called me father. That wail, almost like the roar of a beast, was utterly horrifying.

From the start, I never considered him my child, but if he calls me father, then I’d call him this in turn.

A wretched, accursed child the world would be better off without.

***

Time passed, and preparations for the departure from Riot Castle entered their final stages.

“Father!”

Adele, in her spiritual form, leaped into my arms.

“Yes, yes.”

It had been so long, I did not push her away, but hugged her tightly.

On the back of my left hand, the leaf-shaped Crest shimmered brightly.

Not only me, but all the soldiers busily moving through the castle had the same.

“While it may not be as strong as within the Garden, as long as I am with Mother’s spirit, we should still be protected by the Watcher’s blessing.”

Tasar, who had been watching quietly, finally spoke.

“Mother’s strength has recovered greatly. It’s all thanks to Hor sharing His light with us.”

At those words, I looked at Adele anew.

The talk of her recovering was no lie—Adele was smiling more energetically than ever.

“Adele. How is Mar-Garten holding up?”

“Mar’s regained a good bit of strength! But… because of that madman, it’s been a headache. Apparently he’s got no aptitude whatsoever for being a Saint. The Magic Alliance is trying to drag him away by force…”

Adele and Mar communicate through their roots.

Thanks to that, Mar can receive information without any divine revelations or visions.

“Aptitude doesn’t matter, what matters is what that fellow is capable of.”

I found myself laughing as I recalled Mar, who now held his head and sighed as a daily routine.

As he’d said, Allan’s nature was not at all suited to being a Saint.

But his background and abilities were more than sufficient.

“Saint, all forces are ready to depart!”

Just as I was enjoying the reunion with Adele, the Commander’s shout rang out.

I looked around.

First, my eyes met those of the Temple Knights.

They grinned, gesturing playfully for me to take my place beside them.

Next were the officers of the Alliance, veterans of the Undead War.

Behind them, the Baren troops wore determined expressions.

“Reliable, indeed.”

With this, there would be no lack in ending this war.

“Let’s go.”

Ku-gu-gung—

With a rumble, the gates that had long withstood the plague swung open.

A total force of thirteen thousand began their advance through the opened gates.

“Ooooh! Hor has spoken!”

“Fear not!”

“They cannot harm us!”

“Today will become history!”

They raised their voices in song.

Though they could not gather even ten thousand horses, and so had to march on foot, not one lagged behind.

If anything, I felt I alone was tense.

They didn’t know.

They didn’t know the fearsome power of Legion Commander Kal Gos,

The malicious and brutal nature of that fiend.

Though this battle was a chance to slay him, there was no guarantee it would be easy.

“Why do you look so troubled?”

As we marched through the ruined territory, Aaron asked me.

When I snapped out of my thoughts, I saw everyone around me looking at me with concern.

“Surely you’re not worrying about whether we’ll live or die, like last time?”

Aaron grinned, teasing.

Somehow, his face overlapped with memories of our march to subjugate the dragon.

“Bringing up old tales at a time like this…”

I grumbled in annoyance.

“Before you worry about us, Saint, make sure you survive!”

“If the Saint lives, there’s still hope in this world!”

The knights who’d marched with me from the Hobsun Mountains shouted with laughter.

I could only look around in disbelief.

Such words, during a march, were ominous.

To urge someone to survive was something said when death was closer than life.

Whatever the intent, it would usually destroy morale.

But not this time.

“Saint! Please, do not waver and lead us forward!”

Hans, a familiar spearman, shouted out.

Following him, more than ten thousand soldiers spontaneously joined in the marching song.

“Indeed… Baren has always been known for its strength and courage. Now, bearing Hor’s light, it has grown even greater.”

At Gide’s words, I nodded reflexively.

I looked forward once more.

A road shrouded in gathering darkness.

The fire transferred from the lanterns illuminated the way ahead.

***

Led by Richard, the great army marched through plague-ridden lands.

They cut through blackened forests, forded foul, polluted rivers.

Without the Crest containing the Garden’s blessing and their faith, they would not have survived the march; it was a cruel ordeal.

At last, they arrived before the Plague Fortress.

Gulp—someone swallowed nervously.

Who could call this the Polin Castle?

It was nothing but flesh.

A mountain-sized, crimson hunk of living flesh.

It had almost fully taken the form of a giant.

Though it was still only in the cocoon stage, the monstrous aura radiating from it was unmistakable—it was like the embodiment of evil.

“Hold here.”

Richard positioned the troops near the Plague Fortress, then planted the Banner of the Hor Church in the ground.

The faith of millions contained within soothed the weary bodies and minds of the men.

“Aaron, Gide. You two, come with me.”

“Yes.”

Without hesitation, Aaron and Gide followed Richard as he moved.

They silently walked along the side of the Plague Fortress for some time.

“Where are we going?” Aaron’s question was soon answered.

“There, those people…”

In the distance, a large force was approaching, barely forcing their way through the miasma.

The standards raised by the standard-bearers all bore magical family emblems.

At the front, a banner emblazoned with a dragon motif.

The Crest of the Marks Family.

“Good timing. I’ll ask for your escort.”

“Saint—”

Without so much as glancing back, Richard strode toward them.

Given that the magicians were already on edge from the harrowing march, their sharp response was only natural.

Pii-im—!

A spell flew in suddenly, but was brushed aside by Aaron’s aura.

Amid the lingering flow of mana, Richard spoke calmly.

“Everyone looks quite pale.”

The response was a sharp, murderous intent.

Then, a small girl stepped forward.

“Oh! So it’s you? The Saint of the South. Hm, you radiate a holy aura just from a glance?”

“Saint of the North… you wretch.”

Allan Marks.

He clutched his Spirit Staff, his eyes trembling without restraint.

He seemed both confused and seething with rage.

“I’m not a wretch, but a Saint.”

Grit—

Allan’s teeth ground together.

Richard, in contrast, was utterly unruffled by the reaction.

Instead, Aaron and Gide flanked him, raising their guard.

If something went wrong, a thousand spells could rain down at once—tension hung in the air.

“Hmph. Seems the Saint of the South couldn’t lead his comrades well. Everyone looks like they’ve been dragged to their doom.”

Even in such a moment, Richard’s provocation continued.

His appraising gaze at the magicians betrayed a hint of disappointment.

For Allan, it was truly intolerable.

Indeed, Allan was seething as he looked at the magicians, acting as if they were about to die.

Just then.

“Saint of the South,”

Richard took a step toward Allan.

Allan and the magicians raised their staffs.

But they could not bring themselves to form a magic circle.

Saaah—

After circling the Saint of the North, the light grew intensely brilliant and radiant.

“If we join hands and pray here, Hor will surely bestow a mighty Divine Blessing. Your companions, too, will be able to overcome their fear.”

Allan looked down blankly at the hand held out before him.

He did not want to grasp it.

Yet, against his own will, his hand began to move on its own.

“Damn it all…”

What was this feeling?

Allan was as lost as he’d been when he first experienced the Light of Hor.